


Disclosures

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>getting to know your new partner</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disclosures

“Bloody waste of time this is,” Bodie complained as he slid into the driver’s seat of the van, bringing a gust of chill, damp air in with him.

“Nah, this is what a stakeout is all about. Ta.” Doyle accepted the warm beaker of coffee from his new partner. “Have to go far to find it?” He took a long swallow and shivered as the warm liquid settled in his stomach. “Good, this.”

“All night burger place around the corner.” Bodie eyed the man sitting next to him with a wary glance. “So you enjoy stakeouts?” 

Doyle heard the disbelief in the voice and laughed. “No. Got used to them. A lot of police work involves sitting and waiting and watching.”

“Can’t see the appeal, myself,” Bodie shrugged. “That what made you want to be a copper – voyeur, are you?”

Doyle’s jaw clenched at the implied insult. Bodie had been goading him since Cowley had informed them that they were to be partners. Getting Doyle to lose his temper seemed to be Bodie’s main ambition. Yet, there was something in the ex-mercenaries demeanour that made Doyle believe there was more to the man than he let show. He choked back his initial response and hoping that sharing his past might encourage Bodie to do the same, he opened himself up to more of the man’s scorn. Looking out the side window he said, “Actually, I had wanted to be an artist.” He turned his head towards Bodie to see the reaction.

Surprised didn’t cover the look on Bodie’s face. “An artist?”

“Yeah, painting. Spent a year in Paris, living all the clichés.”

“So what happened? No Doyle’s hanging in the Louvre?”

“Realised I wasn’t good enough.” Doyle sighed and took another drink of coffee. “I still paint, but just for myself. It’s a good way to unwind.”

“I can think of better.” 

“I’m sure you can.” So much for détente. Doyle went back to watching the house that was their assignment.

Thirty minutes of the tense silence was all he could tolerate. Being friendly hadn’t worked, maybe his natural belligerence would. He straightened up in his seat and asked, “So, this merc we’re watching out for? He a friend of yours?” He watched Bodie close his eyes. A point scored, then, he thought, but it didn’t give him the pleasure he’d anticipated.

“Mercenaries don’t have friends, Doyle. We have colleagues on the job, to watch our backs, and when the job is done we go our separate ways. Safer that way.”

“Seems a lonely way to live. Didn’t you want more for yourself?”

“What, a white picket fence, a couple of kids and a dog? Grow up, mate. Fairy tales, those are. Not for the likes of us.”

Doyle wasn’t sure if the _us_ included him, but he felt a little thaw in the air. He dared, “Surely you haven’t been alone all your life; there must be someone you’ve loved?”

Doyle watched the proud shoulders slump just a little; exposing vulnerability? 

“There was a girl, in Africa. She was killed by one of my _friends_. And a woman in Germany.” Bodie turned to Doyle, his voice soft. “Love leaves wounds that don’t always heal.” 

Doyle watched the walls go back up. The cool disdain was clear in Bodie’s voice when he asked, “What is this all about, Doyle? Supposed to share all our girlish secrets?”

“Forget it.” He cringed when heard the hurt in his voice. “Thought that since we were going to be working together, we should know a bit about each other.” He turned to look out the side window again. “It’s not important.”

Bodie’s fingers tapped out an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. “OK then, how about you? Ever married?”

Doyle took the offered opening. “No. Engaged twice, but neither worked out. I guess you’re right about fairy tale endings.”

“Don’t tell me,” Bodie rolled his eyes, “I’ve been partnered with an idealist! Why did you join CI5, Doyle? Do you share George’s love of lavender and roses?” Bodie snorted derisively.

“It’s not a joke, Bodie. I joined to do some good. The Met was filled with corruption. Reporting it got me a dead-end job in the drugs squad. Cowley’s a man I can look up to. A man with integrity.” He crumpled up the now empty coffee beaker , tossed it on the floor and asked, “Why’d you join?”

“The money.”

“Pull the other one, mate.”

Bodie cleared his throat, as if embarrassed. “Cowley’s mob gives me a chance to use my darker skills for good. Maybe to balance out some of the bad. Maybe to let me sleep at night.”

Doyle nodded in silent understanding. “Knew it wasn’t for the money.” He lightly punched Bodie’s shoulder. 

“Think you know me then, do you?” 

There was genuine amusement in the question, and a challenge. One that Ray Doyle was more than willing to accept. He was determined to solve the puzzle that was William Andrew Phillip Bodie – no matter how long it took.

**Author's Note:**

> for Tea & Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo 233 Prompts: Old Friends, Old Lovers, Old Enemies, Old Wounds, Old Ambition


End file.
